by Debby Mayne
“No, ma’am. I’ve just been working hard and trying not to eat too much dessert.”
“Well, don’t work too hard. It’s difficult enough to find a good man as it is, and I’m sure you won’t find one if you’re stuck in an office all day.” She grins and shakes her head. “I know girls like to be skinny, but I do think that real men like a little meat on their girls’ bones.”
It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to tell her what I’m thinking. I smile back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I hate that we had to miss the last reunion, but Irby won that cruise, and we couldn’t very well pass up the opportunity to go to the Caribbean. Say, Shay, have you ever gone on a Caribbean cruise?”
I shake my head. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“If you ever find yourself a man, you might want to think about it. They’re so romantic, and the food . . .” Her eyes roll back. “They put out so much heavenly food, you could eat yourself silly.” She laughs. “That’s pretty much what Irby did, but not me. No, sirree. I spent most of my time playing bingo, jogging around the deck, playing charades, and taking art classes.”
I have no idea what’s so romantic about that, but of course I keep that thought to myself. “Sounds like fun.”
“Oh, trust me, it is.” She glances at her watch. “I better run. See you tomorrow, hon.”
As soon as Aunt Willa Dean turns the corner, I give my buggy a powerful shove toward the condiments to fill in what I don’t have from the prospective vendor’s samples. I love my family, and I would do anything for them, but they sure do get me riled up. It’s like they know what my weaknesses are, and that’s what they zoom in on.
“Whoa there, Shay. What’s got you all up in a dither?”
“Sally? What are you doing here?”
She shrugs. “I’m trying to figure out what I can bring that’s not stupid.”
“Stupid?” I try hard not to laugh. “I don’t think anything you bring will be stupid.” I pause. “I thought you were bringing pies.”
“That’s what Sara and Justin are bringing.”
“Bring whatever you want, then. I don’t think anyone will expect a lot.”
“I know. I just don’t want to be one of those people who brings bags of chips or rolls from the bakery.”
“So what are you thinking?”
Sally lowers her head and sighs. “I burned what I was planning to bring, so now I have to figure out something else.”
“You can always do a Jell-O mold or ambrosia.” I can’t help but giggle.
“Right.” She rolls her eyes in typical Sally style. “I don’t want to bring home something that no one else has touched.”
I think for a moment and decide to let her have one of my dishes. “I have an idea. How about meatballs?”
“Meatballs? Who makes those?”
“I do. Come on. I’ll help you with them.”
“Are they hard to make?”
“Not if you know what you’re doing.”
Sally lets me lead her to the meat counter, then over to the canned tomato products. “What will we put the meatballs on?”
“You can do pasta, or you can buy a bunch of toothpicks and let people think they’re hors d’oeuvres.”
Her eyes light up. “People like to eat stuff with toothpicks. I’ll do that.”
“And how about stuffing some celery?” I gesture toward the produce section. “You can do a tray with celery stuffed with pimento cheese, hummus, and peanut butter. If you make it all pretty on a bed of lettuce and put a few cherry tomatoes on the platter for color, people will think you’re the best cook in Mississippi.”
Sally follows happily along and picks up everything I tell her to. “Shay, you’re a genius.”
“I’ll be over to help you with that after I finish shopping.”
She wiggles her fingers in a wave and leaves me standing there wondering what to do. I’ve just helped her shop for one of the main things I was planning to bring to the reunion.
Since I know there’ll be plenty of dense, rich casseroles, I head for the produce department. I load up on peppers, zucchini, tomatoes, and green beans. Although I’m still not sure what to cook, I know I can chop and freeze whatever is left. Then I wheel my buggy toward the eggs, grab several dozen, then go toward the checkout.
“Shay!” I glance up and spot Aunt Faye letting go of her buggy and coming toward me with open arms. “I see I’m not the only one who does last-minute shopping.”
“It’s good to see you.” I glance at her buggy and slink back when I realize I’m still not up to the family standard of overflowing bounty. Healthy produce will never stand up to one of Aunt Faye’s chicken-fried steaks smothered in gravy and onions.
She leans over and looks at the contents of my buggy. “Looks like you’re just getting started, so I won’t keep you.”
At that moment, I know I’ll be up until the wee hours of the night, fussing over the stove, worried that whatever I bring won’t be enough. “See you tomorrow.”
She smiles and walks back to her buggy before turning around. “Oh, by the way, I hear you might be bringing a guest. Will I be hearing wedding bells soon?”
I have no idea what to say, so I smile back and shrug. “You never know.”
“Ooh, this sounds promising. I guess I better run. I have a lot to do tonight to get ready for the big day.”
After she goes to the checkout, I stand there staring into my buggy. I have to come up with something else. Even though I know I’ll never be able to compete with some of the older women in the family, I need to at least hold my own.
As soon as Aunt Faye is out of sight, I pull out my cell phone and click on my favorite recipe site. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, so I pull out the readers I picked up from the drugstore, put them on, and shop for more ingredients. I even pick up a couple more overpriced casserole pans because I don’t have time to make a stop at Walmart.
An hour and a couple hundred dollars later, I’m on the way to my car. I turn on the radio, but the music irritates me, so I shut it off. The stress from this reunion is overwhelming, and I regret inviting Elliot. Not only am I worried about the family’s reaction to him, but I don’t want him to see me like this.
I promised to help Sally get ready for the reunion, so I put everything away as quickly as possible, fill the dishwasher, grab the detergent from beneath the sink, and squirt it into the little fill cup. Then I turn it on so the dishes will be clean and ready to use when I get back home.
If I’d known how easy it was to cook, I would have done it a long time ago. All you have to do is follow directions, and voilà! You have a meal.
“See?” Shay takes a step back so we can both admire our finished dishes.
“Can I try one of the meatballs?” I reach for one, but she swats my hand.
“No, you’ve tried enough already. If you keep going, there won’t be any to bring to the reunion.”
I glance at the stuffed celery that I ordinarily would have walked past. But it actually looks good, nestled into a bed of curly lettuce and embellished with cherry tomatoes. Food presentation is sort of like little girls’ hair bows. You can take something that’s just okay and jazz it up with a little bling to make people want it.
“Fine, then I’ll take one of these instead.” I grab a hummus-stuffed celery stick before she has a chance to react. “It looks like a boat.”
Shay folds her arms and grins back at me. “Let’s see what you think about it. Go ahead and taste it.”
I bring it to my mouth and stick out my tongue to check out the hummus. I wanted to get the kind with garlic and hot peppers, but Shay said it’s best to get the plain one in case folks have allergies.
After I chew and swallow the first bite, I shake my head. “It’s kind of blah.”
“So why don’t you put a little Tabasco on it? You can put some on the table tomorrow in case other people like it spicy.”
“I’ll do that.”
Shay is wiping her hands on the dish towel, so I have a feeling she’s about to leave. “Why don’t you stick around for a little while? Sara should be home soon, and I’m sure she’d want to see you.”
“I have to go home and fix what I’m bringing.” She gives me a hug before reaching for her purse and walking toward the door. “Besides, I’ll see her tomorrow.” She puts her hand on the knob then pauses. “How are things with Justin?”
I shrug. “Okay, I guess. It’s just that he’s . . . I don’t know . . . always there. She and I don’t have much time together, just the two of us.”
“She’ll always be your sister, no matter what. I don’t think anything can possibly come between the two of you.”
“Someone needs to tell Justin that.”
“I’m sure he knows.” Shay opens the door. “Don’t forget to stick those meatballs in the oven to heat them up before you leave.”
“Shay?”
She stops and turns to face me. “Did you need something else?”
“I just have a question.” I take a deep breath to stop the tears that bite the backs of my eyes. “Do you ever think of the questions you’ll ask God when you get to heaven? Like about why He lets certain things happen?”
She gives me a half-smile, sort of like the one Mama used to give Sara and me when she felt bad for us. “When I get to heaven, I think my mind will be on more awesome things than questions that came up during my earthly life.”
“Oh.” What else can I say?
“I think everything will be clear once we’re in heaven. This is all petty stuff that we worry about way too much.”
I hang my head. “Yeah, you’re right.”
As soon as she leaves, I wait a couple of minutes before I go back into the kitchen, grab a couple of meatballs, and pop them into my mouth. They are absolutely delicious.
I cover them back up and stick the pan in the refrigerator. Now I need to think of something to do before I go crazy and eat the whole pan of meatballs. I glance over at the platter filled with little celery boats. Too bad they don’t taste as good as they look.
The sound of a key in the door lets me know Sara and Justin are home. I pretend not to notice when they appear at the door of the kitchen.
“Hey, Sally, we got an extra pie for us,” Justin says.
I glance up and see that they are each holding two pies. “That’s nice. What kind did you get?”
Justin looks at Sara then smiles at me. “We got apple for the reunion but pecan for here. Sara says that’s your favorite.”
“I like it with ice cream.”
“That’s why we stopped at the grocery store on the way home.” Justin sets the pies on the table and lifts the bag from the crook of his elbow. “Why don’t we have some now?”
Without another word, I fetch some plates from the cabinet. I’m touched that they’d think of me and bring home a pecan pie, since I know Sara barely even likes it.
“So, Justin, what’s your favorite kind of pie?” I ask as he scoops a dollop of ice cream onto each slice.
He shrugs. “I like just about anything.”
I’ve seen that. He’ll eat whatever is in the fridge without making any negative comments, regardless of what it is.
After we finish our pie and ice cream, I start to get up, but Justin points to the chair. “Stay and talk to Sara. I’ll clean up.”
I blink and raise my eyebrows before turning to Sara. She grins and winks. “He’s sweet, isn’t he?”
I’m starting to see what Sara likes about this boy, but I’m not about to say he’s sweet. Not yet, anyway. “That’s nice of you, Justin.”
“So how’s everything going with Shay?” Sara asks. “Did y’all get some stuff made for the reunion?”
“A whole bunch of stuff.” I tell her about the meatballs and stuffed celery.
She crinkles her nose. “Stuffed celery? I don’t know if anyone will eat that, but maybe someone will.”
“It’s actually pretty good. You might want to try some.”
Justin glances over his shoulder. “I love stuffed celery. What did you stuff it with?”
“Pimento cheese, hummus, and peanut butter.”
He grins. “Did you make any extra? I’d love some now.”
I hop up, open the fridge, and pull out the platter. “I’ll slip a couple of each out for you now.” I tilt my head toward Sara. “Want some?”
She narrows her eyes as she scrutinizes it. “It does look good.”
I reach for one with peanut butter and hand it to her. “I think you’ll like this one.” Then I get the bottle of Tabasco out of the cabinet and put it on the table. “This is good with the hummus.”
After Justin finishes the dishes, he wipes his hands and unrolls his sleeves on his way to the table. “I’ll take some hot sauce.”
As he munches on the stuffed celery, I watch his look of appreciation, and I have to admit it feels good to know someone likes my cooking. “How is it?”
“The best I’ve ever had.”
“Wow, Sally, I’m impressed. You’re becoming Ms. Homemaker.” Sara turns to Justin. “Isn’t she?”
“Absolutely.” He beams at me. “You’ll have to teach Sara how to make this.”
If Justin hadn’t cooked more meals than Sara since they’ve been married, I might have made an issue of his comment. But I can’t do that, especially after the kind thing they did for me.
“I’ll be happy to teach her whatever I know, if she’s ever home long enough.”
Justin gives me an odd look, and guilt washes over me. I need to control my sarcasm until he figures out that’s my way of dealing with things I don’t understand.
As I walk home, I think about the relationship between Sally and Sara. They were long overdue for some changes, but this one has obviously blindsided Sally.
I can’t help but wonder how Sara would have held up if Sally had eloped. Probably not very well. Although Sally is struggling with Sara’s decision, she’s clearly the stronger of the two. I doubt anyone else in the family—besides their parents, of course—sees the differences. In fact, when people talk about them, they usually just say, “the twins.” Unfortunately, I’m guilty of having done that before I really knew them.
I turn onto my street and think about the work I have ahead of me. I’ll need to put the clean dishes away then cook for a couple of hours. After that, I need to figure out what to wear. I planned to get a new outfit, since Elliot is going with me, but time just got away from me.
“Hi there!”
I turn around and see one of my new neighbors getting out of his car. I wave back. “Hey.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood.” He takes a step toward me and extends his hand. “I’m Joe Stanford.”
“I’m Shay Henke.” I accept the handshake but quickly pull away the instant I feel the chemistry. He has something that transcends good looks, and I feel a bolt of attraction that catches me off guard.
“Are you new to Pinewood?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve lived here all my life. In fact, I just moved from the other side of the community.”
“Oh.” He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets. “I was hoping you were brand new so I could show you around.”
“How about you? How long have you been in Pinewood?”
“About a year and a half.” He glances over his shoulder. “Would you like to come over for a few minutes? I just finished making a cobbler, and I’m afraid if no one helps me, I’ll be tempted to eat the whole thing myself.”
I laugh. “I don’t know.”
He gives me an exaggerated puppy-dog look. “Please?”
There is no way I can turn him down now. “Okay, but just for a few minutes. I have a ton of stuff to do.”
“You’ve got the whole weekend,” he says as he gestures toward his condo.
Once we get inside, I smell the wonderfully sweet aroma of peach cobbler. I take a long look around. It’s not heavily decorated, but
I can tell he has varied interests. There’s a bow and arrow mounted on the wall over the TV. On a side table, he has a variety of sports trophies lined up. An open Bible holds court in the center of a rough-hewn coffee table.
“I see you’re an athlete.”
He lifts his hands and chuckles. “Guilty as charged.”
I glance back over at the Bible. “And a Christian?”
“Yes, absolutely. How about you?”
I nod as my pulse picks up even more. “I am.”
“Then you probably won’t run away when I tell you I’m the youth pastor at Cornerstone Community Church.”
“I go to Pinewood Community Church.”
“Good church.” He points to the kitchen. “Ready for some cobbler?”
“Absolutely.” I ate a half dozen meatballs at Sally’s place and nibbled on some celery, so I might as well have cobbler and call it dessert.
He prepares a couple bowls filled with cobbler and ice cream and places them on the kitchen table. As we eat, we take turns asking each other questions about our pasts. I’m having the time of my life when I look up at the clock on the wall and realize how late it’s getting.
I carry my bowl to the sink. “I had a wonderful time, Joe, and your cobbler is delicious, but I really need to run.”
“It’s early.”
“I know, but I have to get some stuff ready for my family reunion tomorrow.”
He narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to be going to the Bucklin family reunion, would you?”
“How did you know?”
“Then I’ll see you there. In fact, that’s why I made the cobbler. This one is a mini. The big one’s in the fridge.”
“Why are you—I mean, you’re not a long-lost cousin I don’t know about, are you?”
He belts out a hearty laugh. “No, I’m friends with Faye and Dennis Wright. I think they felt sorry for me because I don’t have any family here.”
“Faye and Dennis are my aunt and uncle.”
“Pinewood is a small town, so I shouldn’t be surprised.” He pauses and gives me a lingering look. “But I am. Pleasantly surprised.”
“You didn’t have to make a cobbler. There’s always a big spread. In case Aunt Faye and Uncle Dennis didn’t tell you, all my aunts and cousins like to see who can one-up everyone else.”